Aren’t they the worst? Jk, jk, I love babies, I do. They smell like warm pancakes on a crisp November morning while sitting in a room full of babies.

Oo did you hear? Kate Middleton’s having one. I heard she’s so excited she can’t stop throwing up. Every morning.

Recently another friend of ours announced she was pregnant – I can’t wait to touch her baby. I know that sounds weird but I look forward to handling her baby constantly. So yeah– that makes approximately everyone we know, is pregnant. Or is pregnant and already has children.

I know I wrote a lot of words today. I just feel like I have to say it all.

The way that I’m gonna start this off is by first telling you the way that I am not gonna start it off. Which is: talking about Kate Middleton’s boobies. You really think I’m gonna throw that kinda thing in your face on a MONDAY AFTERNOON? Please- I am not that crass. I do not hurl nakedness at you on just any day of the week. I hurl sex stuff at you only on Tuesday through Friday and sometimes Saturday. Which means I’m waiting until tomorrow to talk about Kate Middleton’s chest being photographed/published/seen by the world entirely without her permission.

To find that base pic I did a Google image search for the word vagina. Which by the way I recommend you do not do if you’re at work. I cannot stress this enough – it is NSFW (not safe for work). I am dead serious don’t do it. Don’t you do it noooooo YOU’RE DOING IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT

>:(

Aright ANYWAY people, let’s see here. Where’s a good spot to start this story. Oh right of course, the beginning’s probably a good place.

So you remember when I tweeted that I’ma take a pass on reading E.L. James’ 50 Shades of Grey? (And if you don’t use twitter, well remember just now when you found out I won’t be reading 50 Shades of Grey?)

Well I remember. Because my Twitter blew up with more like-minded responses than that time I tweeted I won’t be eating my placenta as a milkshake. {Continue reading…}

… aright I’m lying right to your face. Mondays are no Saturdays, that’s for sure. There’s obviously no fooling you. But hopefully things’ll get better once you’ve gotten a load of this post. I have a very good feeling about it, actually.

This post centers around an adult-only topic, so I need you to pull out your Serious Helmet and slide it onto your Noodle whoa whoa whoa WHOA. …Did that just sound like I was talking about penises, or did that just sound like I was talking about penises. Wait a second, is it ‘penises?’ Seems weird but I’m coming off of 5 hours sleep— penes, maybe? Peonies. Okay……. you know what, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.

I’ve gotten more than a few questions from brides for the Dear TKB column about whether or not they should incorporate a certain trend [insert whatever specific wedding trend referenced]… or just avoid employing any trends altogether, for fear of it becoming lame say 5 or 10 years down the road.

The questions, varied as they may be, all have a common thread ==> My answer to them. {Continue reading…}

I was sitting in my doctor’s waiting room yesterday, and if it was two hours it felt like two days. I had asked my Mom to come with me. She was off yesterday and this was the kind of appointment you want a loved one around for. Mainly for when you have to walk back out into the waiting room armed with some news, and the only thing that’s different about you is absolutely everything.

I love it when someone tweets me and twitter shows me exactly where they live. It’s really useful information to have if I’m in the mood for killing someone that day. Thank you, technology. (*she says with a serious face, illustrating intent*)

Now is as good a time as any to tell you that I’m having a lot of trouble processing the cloaks factor of Monday night’s episode. I’m anxious to get to it. Pray this entire recap isn’t riddled with references to cloaks and types of people who wear capes, because it’s sort of the dominant gene in this pool right now.

I AM SO GLAD IT’S OVER. This guy is the dictionary definition of a drag of a human being who is less properly equipped for finding love than Bambino’s balls are equipped for making new Bambinos. But I’ll pity a ball-less (ballsless? balllless?) Bambino who’s none the wiser before I’ll feel even an ounce of pity for a privileged winemaker who lists among his allergies Quality Ladies and My Own Tears. I feel like Ben should go on to write a book entitled, “The 7 Habits of Highly Effective Assholes.” I think it would be a New York Times best-seller for how accurate and effective it is for becoming an asshole.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand I’m baaaack! From my whittle burfday vacation in the south. And I feel like a million buc–aaahhh, well, I don’t know if I’d say *a million* bucks. Maybe more like a thousand bucks? A thousand bucks. Give me the ass I had when I was 18 and maybe then we’ll talk.

Love all of this...

Hey everybody, happy number two post of Saturday, March 3rd! Ok I’m crazy excited and don’t exactly know what to do with myself, and therefore I don’t know what to do with this post. The gist is, 2012 is shaping up to be one of the most intense, exciting, neurotic, rewarding, busy, bringing-out-of-all-insecurities-known-and-yet-to-be-happened-upon-at-inopportune-times, fun, exhausting and joyful years of my life, for many wonderful reasons related to work and play, but the most important one being this next one:

Ok, SO. It’s what–almost 11pm EST? and hey check me out, cuz I’m BLOGGIN’. I’ve spent much of the evening trying to wrap up ye olde latest recap of The Bachelor, so it took me a little extra time to get up a normal post today. Sorry, hope you don’t mind. Thanks for being so patient, regardless.

Ok here we go. Something is about to really get underway in my little world, and then kinda sorta potentially blow it the eff up and out. And I’ve been sitting on it, almost denying its existence, for what feels like forever. Which is stupid, but I’ll explain why I think that is, shortly.

Happy Friday evening, friends! It is good to be back home from ma travels, and I have a double feature-ish situation thingie going on today for ya eyeballs. The second half of this post is a killer wedding, and you’re more than welcomed to skip to that if all you want is some visual candy. All good in the hood by me. I’m actually psyched for you to see it, and I’m dying to know what you think of it all. The first part of the post, however, is a personal story about what happened while I was traveling back home from Las Vegas (does that translate to ‘land of virgins’ or is it ‘many vajayjays?’ sorry… I don’t speak Spanish) to nyc this week. I was seated next to a father and his 11-year-old son. The boy’s father, divorced, shared unique lessons about marriage with his son; lessons I wasn’t expecting. Of course, it had to be blogged, and today is when it’s happening. I’m hoping to hear your thoughts and if you think I’m crazy for having the reaction I did/do.

(Quick note: when you get to the wedding part of this post, please make sure you’re in an enclosed space, like a small closet or parked car or possibly swaddled a bassinet, because this feature is going to blow your face off and I’m concerned about you losing track of your face.)

Happy Tuesday afternoon, folks! Alison here, blogging from the lovely Las Vegas at WPPI, and kind of wishing I didn’t have to go back to NY after THIS AMAZING WEATHER OUT HERE. I mean… people LIVE like this, in nice weather most of the year? I am officially addicted to the sunshine.

Ok, moving right along, today’s question from a reader is a doozie, not to mention, a not-so-unusual problem brides can have. I’d love to hear your thoughts for Miss E., and if you have any advice for her! As always, I’m just one li’l ol’ person in a sea of advice-having people, and I think Miss E will appreciate whatever you may have to say. Alrighty, here we go…..

Alison here. Pretttttyyy pretty stoked about introducing this new series you’re about to experience, and to see it all coming together is nothing short of a dream come true. I hear EVERY DAY from brides with in-law questions and issues, and this series was an inevitability.

Now, I think we all know that there are lovely, kind, wonderful in-laws out there, as well as go-with-the-flow in-laws, and not-very-involved in-laws…. clearly, since in-laws are people, naturally they come in all shapes, sizes, and personalities. And many make a bride’s transition from girlfriend to wife easy breezy beautiful – even delightful in many cases! – and for these types of in-laws we are beyond grateful. They disprove the reigning stigma. Trust me, great in-laws do exist!

Unfortunately, they don’t exist in all cases. Even more, they are hardly the exception to the rule.